Bodyguard of Lies
by Mandi1
Summary: Alice Cullen: celebutante, fashionista, rich girl, tabloid fodder. Jasper Whitlock: bodyguard, indie boy, intellectual, tattooed twenty-something. A relationship between them is not supposed to happen and most certainly not supposed to work out. AU, AH.


"**For the Love of Jasper" One-Shot Contest **

**Title: Bodyguard of Lies**

**Pen name: Mandi**

**Existing work: N/A**

**Primary Players: Jasper & Alice**

**Disclaimer: No characters belong to me, all are property of Stephenie Meyer.**

**To see other entries in the "For the Love of Jasper" contest, please visit the C2:  
www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/community/For_the_Love_of_Jasper_Contest/72564/**

* * *

"_In wartime, truth is so precious that she should be attended by a bodyguard of lies_."

Winston Churchill

* * *

He was on his third cigarette already, and it made her feel twitchy, watching the slim stick in those pale long hands of his go to and from his mouth. His perfect mouth. Palest pink with a slim upper lip and a fuller lower one and perfect despite the scar that dented in the top right corner. It was the scar that denoted the danger. To the untrained eye, Jasper Whitlock looked like any normal upper-twenty-something you'd meet on the street; shaggy blond hair falling into dark blue eyes, strong jawline, taller than average with lean limbs covered with dark jeans and long-sleeved shirts advertising some ridiculous indie band or another. But the scar showed the promise. Even without a word or a glance, just that one solitary scar disfiguring his smirky smile gave hints of danger, of violence. And when he pushed up his sleeves to show the toned, muscled arms underneath, the left nearly covered in a sleeve of tattoos, the promise was made manifest, and anyone watching was sure the man was trouble.

She knew different. She was one of the few who realized there was something underneath that carefully-concealed danger and somewhat shabby dress. Rosalie didn't care what he did, so long as he was there doing his job, but Alice…Alice knew.

She had seen the way he looked at her. Not in the way a bodyguard normally looked at a client – and she ought to know. Alice had had protection since she was thirteen. Being the daughter of one of the most successful businessmen in the western world required it – and the death threats Carlisle Cullen and his family had received the past year had made it even more necessary. She and her older sister had shared a bodyguard, and Edward had his own to go with him to his school. The guards had always been quiet, large, and lethal men who kept their hands on a gun and their eyes on the crowd.

Jasper was different. His gun was so well hidden it had been a long time before she realized he had been carrying one. His careless dress that both Cullen girls' fashionista sense so hated drew little attention to him, a far cry from the all-black-and-wraparound-glasses the others had worn. And without the sunglasses, his stare was intense and piercing – especially when it was turned towards her.

She had tried to pretend she didn't see it at first, but it was so hard. He was younger, handsomer, more slender than muscular, his power hidden behind his ordinary looks. Both Rosalie and Alice had admitted to crushes on him at the beginning, but Rosalie had been swept up by her football-player boyfriend soon after and had left any daydreams of Jasper behind. Alice had no one to go to, and found herself seeking out the tall blond man even when she was in no need of his services. A bodyguard watched who he was hired for, she told herself. They were supposed to be near each other. There was nothing wrong with his style or his looks, he was only…different.

He was a bodyguard, but he didn't look it. He protected her, but he also watched TV with her. He kept an eye out for danger, but he never stopped watching her, whether she was out shopping or going to school or in a club or even forcing him to play Phase Ten on her bedroom floor when she had a cold and couldn't go out. He never stopped watching, and soon, she found herself returning his stare, their eyes meeting hotly in the middle.

It was then that he would turn away, staring at their surroundings as any decent bodyguard should, usually choosing that moment to light up a cigarette. Tension relief? Habit? She wasn't sure. All she knew was that she saw something in those hard blue eyes of his. Something she wanted more of.

Jasper leaned forward and dropped the end of his cigarette on the ground, stubbing it out the with the toe of his nondescript black boot Alice so hated.

"You know, those give you cancer," she chastised…then internally winced. What was she, a fact-toting schoolgirl? She was Alice Cullen, for fuck's sake. She had been on the cover of _People_ last month. Okay, not the _entire_ cover, and Rose had been in the feature box with her, but she was still somebody. A socialite. A debutante. Not a pokey stick-in-the-mud robot. What was he reducing her to?

"Yeah, I know," he replied with a little killing smile that made her knees shake slightly. "Second hand smoke does too, but I don't see you moving."

As if she'd stay away from him for any reason. The tiny crush she had developed upon meeting him had only grown over the months, increasing as the intensity in his eyes did. It was beyond helping now.

"I thought you were supposed to be protecting my life, not endangering it," she said, rather pleased that she had thought up such a comeback.

Jasper laughed. "This whole club is full of smoke, and you're gonna pick on me?"

She stuck her tongue out at him – childish, but if she opened her mouth to speak she would've either said something dumb or implicating. And there was no way she, Alice Cullen,daughter of Carlisle Cullen, _People _Magazine covergirl, was going to look like that in front of him.

But then again, she was doing a lot of things that weren't her typical M.O. A few months back, she had been a typical partygirl, hopping from club to club, release parties, premiers, and openings, always in the center of things and always with Rosalie at her side. They had been labeled "the crazy Cullen sisters" for years now and had lived up to the name very well. Now, Rosalie was so head-over-heels for Emmett McCarty, the Seattle Seahawks' star tight end (a position she had way too much fun joking about), Alice was almost taken along as an afterthought. Rose was way too busy dancing or drinking or making out with Emmett to party with her, and it sure as hell was not fun doing it alone. So she went to the clubs to get the appearance fees they promised her and sat in the back, sipping at an amaretto sour and scanning the room and trying to look hot in whatever she had dressed up in the night…mostly for his benefit.

As if he'd care. Jasper barely cared about the clothes that were on his own back. Why on earth would he pay attention to the custom Valentino she had bought on impulse because she overheard him telling Edward's guard that his favorite color was gray? That was the funny thing about him. Every other guy who she had dated had been after her for her money or her body or her status. Jasper didn't seem to care about any of those things. The times they had their best moments were usually when she was in her pajamas looking ridiculously grungy and she made him hot chocolate and they watched Saturday Night Live reruns. Put her next to him in a skintight Gucci and he could care less.

A waitress came over to their booth with a tray of drinks, putting a shotglass filled with blue liquid in front of Alice.

"Um, I didn't order this," she said, holding the glass out to the woman.

She smiled and shook her head. "No, Miss Cullen, he did." She nodded to the other side of the VIP lounge where a tall man in a dark suit was leaning against the bar, smiling at her. He was handsome, his Armani was well-tailored, and he was almost enough to be her father…but the sudden attention Jasper was paying to her meant something was up.

"Don't drink that," he said gruffly, his eyes still on the dark man as he began crossing the floor to them.

She inspected the heavy shotglass then looked over to him. "Why not?"

"You don't know what's in it."

Alice rolled her eyes. "It came from the bar. Don't be a wuss."

"Alice –"

But she cut him off by downing the shot in one gulp and rising to her feet as the man approached their table.

"Alice, isn't it?" he asked in the suave voice she was used to hearing from men. It was nothing like Jasper's deep silky drawl. She looked back at her bodyguard, expecting him to be keeping that same careless attitude as always – and was shocked to see the anger almost visibly radiating from him. Whatever it was about this stranger, something was setting Jasper off and in a way she had never seen him react before.

"Yes, it is" she replied, tearing her eyes away from Jasper and onto the man standing before her. Up close, he was definitely not as handsome. His eyes were a nice dark brown, but he was already starting to go bald, and he had big bags under his eyes, pointing to a life spent with little sleep. So he was either a workaholic or he fucked around too much to get a decent eight hours. Yeah, definitely not the sort of guy a girl wanted to hang around with.

"I'm Peter Lacroix," he introduced himself with another one of those smooth grins he had flashed from across the room – this time revealing yellowed, crooked teeth. "Did you enjoy that drink?"

She smiled half-heartedly. "Yeah, thank you."

"There's plenty more where that came from." The line was cheesy, as was the arm that Peter tried to slip around her waist.

But another arm was there to save her. Jasper's hand clamped around her wrist and tugged her away from Peter before she had a chance to say another word to the man and barely enough for her to grab her purse. They stopped long enough for him to throw a glare back towards Peter, his eyes holding every lethal ounce his body possessed, before they started walking away, his hand still tight on her wrist.

"Where are we going?" she asked when they stopped just in front of the stairs that would lead to the main floor of the club.

Jasper looked back and forth before speaking. "Where's your sister?"

No way was Alice Cullen going to be ignored. She stamped her heel on the ground and yanked her wrist from his hand. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are we leaving?"

Now it was her turn to be glared at. Jasper turned his furious gaze to her, the look barely softened. "Did you not see that jerk trying to get his hands all over you? He's forty years old, Alice, what do you think he wants with you? Certainly nothing good!"

"Of course I saw him," she shot back, "but I know how to take care of myself. I did it before you came along, you know!"

"Yeah, well, I'm here now, so I'm gonna handle it, thank you very much," he muttered, fumbling with his phone for a second. "Now, where's Rosalie?"

Alice was too angry to say much, and only nodded her head towards a corner of the dance floor where Rose was grinding up on Emmett in a totally disgusting way for public. Jasper's hand was back on her wrist, pulling her down the stairs and over to Rosalie's corner. The blonde didn't stop her indecent dance until the bodyguard cleared his throat, and then she looked up with annoyance clouding her perfect face.

"Rosalie, we're out. Now." Jasper's voice made sure she knew he wasn't messing around, and even Emmett seemed to cower a little.

"Now?" Rosalie repeated, whining inflecting her tone.

"You know, I could bring her home," Emmett offered.

Jasper shook his head. "No. I already had the car pulled around. Let's go."

Rosalie turned to Emmett, plastering herself over his body in a way that sickened Alice…and made the slightest rumbling of jealousy go through her. She averted her eyes as they kissed, and let Jasper tug her away like a puppy towards the door.

There would be paparazzi outside. It was always a certainty. But how many there would be, and whether they would be the type that followed your car home was always a tossup. Tonight didn't seem to be too bad, just a few flashing bulbs as they entered the towncar. Alice settled in, pressed between Rosalie and Jasper, silent and upset and with a sore wrist to boot.

The ride was quiet and the late night traffic made it longer than it should have taken. She was almost surprised to find herself still mad by the time they pulled up to the building. Alice wasn't one to hold grudges – that was Rosalie's gig – and for her to still be upset about something, especially to Jasper, was a nouveau feeling. But…what was she really mad about? That he had dragged her away? No, not really. That guy was such a skeez she had been hoping he would. Maybe it had been that tone he had used. It had definitely not been fun to be yelled at by the man you were pretty much head over heels for. Or maybe…

Maybe she just wanted him to fucking admit that he was jealous of the attention she had been getting. It was obvious. She wasn't in elementary school, and anyone over the age of twelve knew a male territorial move when they saw it. He was jealous. And if he was jealous…

Her anger was gone in an instant, and she had to bite her lip to keep herself from gleefully smiling. Jealousy meant feelings. At least it usually did. Maybe his stares were really something after all. If she could just find out, could just work up the guts to ask him…

But as much bravado as Alice Cullen gave in the tabloids, that was about how much she was lacking in real life. Being brought up by such a strong-willed father meant that you kept your mouth shut and listened to what he said. She had carried that obedience all the way into adulthood, following Rosalie to the clubs at her bidding, moving into their apartment when their mother suggested it, doing that volunteer crap because Daddy had thought it would give the family a good image. For all her image, she was meek. How could she ever tell Jasper how she felt? And what if he didn't return the feeling? That would be even worse than not telling him at all.

Rosalie was still huffy when they got inside, and she stalked off to her room without a word to either her sister or Jasper. Alice stopped to hang her coat in the closet while Jasper went into the living room. By the time she joined him there, he had stretched out on the sofa, his long lanky frame taking up the entire length, leaving only the ottoman for her to sit on. She did, watching him as he lay there with his eyes closed. When their mother Esme had suggested to the girls that they get their own apartment to gain more independence, she had also insisted that their bodyguard move in with them, just for safety's sake. Yet in the five months Jasper had been living in the same home as her, Alice had never had the opportunity to see him sleep. And now…now, he looked so serene. The danger that came with his muscled arms and chiseled jaw was softened as he rested, and she leaned forward to watch him.

Just as he opened his eyes.

"I, um…" Alice mumbled, fumbling for an excuse. But he sat up and scrubbed his eyes with his fist, looking so much like a sleepy little boy that she was at a loss for words and stopped trying to come up with a justification for her actions.

"It's late," he said, pushing his sleeves up, revealing the dark swirls of ink tattooed into his left arm. "We should go to bed."

"Why did you make me leave?"

The words were out quicker than she could stop them, and she blushed in the darkness.

She could make out the glint of his white teeth, even without light in the room. He was smiling. "That guy…you know he isn't nice. I didn't want someone like that messing with you."

"Well…what kind of guy should I mess with?"

"No one. I mean, you shouldn't _mess_ with anyone."

"Have a relationship with, then. What kind of guy should I have a relationship with?"

Her eyes locked on his, making sure he knew. It was her invitation. Her way of allowing him in, letting him know it was okay to try, okay for them to be an 'us'.

"You know. A nice guy." Jasper shrugged for emphasis and said no more.

God, men were so exasperating. She crossed her legs in a huff, letting her stiletto dangle off her toes, bouncing her foot up and down until the shoe fell off and clattered to the floor. She reached down to grab it – and brushed her hand against his as he did the same thing.

"Oh, I've –"

"No, it's –"

"Here, let me." He brushed her hand away and took the black satin shoe, cradling her foot in his palm as he slid the shoe on. The feeling of his fingertips on her skin was like small pulses of electricity, shocking her continually until the shoe was back on. Yet he didn't let go. He kept his hand wrapped around her ankle, the other tracing up her foot…her calf…cupping behind her knee…

Then he dropped her leg as if she had burned him, standing up from the couch like a shot and going towards the door that led to his room.

"I'll, uh, see you in the morning," he said lamely.

Oh, no. _Hell_ no. This was not how it was going to go. It was time, once and for all, to be Alice Cullen, the diva the tabloids talked about. She was up in a second, getting as close to him as he would allow – meaning she had him nearly pressed against the door to his bedroom.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" she asked angrily, staring up at him. Even with the heels on, he was still so much taller than her, and normally it would have turned her on, but now…now she just needed to get it out. "What is it about me that you can't stand?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said softly, averting his eyes. Like _now_ was the time to finally drag his gaze away from her.

"Yes, you do," she spat. "You get jealous in the club. You touch me like…like _that_, and younever stop watching me. Never."

"I do not –"

"_Never_, Jasper. I'm not some oblivious little kid who doesn't get it. And you wanna know the shocker? You wanna know the big secret that's gonna tilt this all sideways?"

He stared at her again, his eyes blue and wide and so lovely she almost burst. His perfect mouth was pursed, shut, and he stayed silent, waiting for her to go on.

"The funny thing…" She chuckled bitterly. "The funny thing is…I'm so totally into you. Head over heels. You say jump and I'm gonna say how high cause I'm just about in love with you. How messed up is that?"

The room seemed even more silent than before once she made her confession. It was as if the world had stopped now that her biggest secret was out. It was there, laid out before him, and it was his decision whether he could keep her world spinning…or whether he'd cause it to crumble into dust.

"We…can't."

Dust it was, then.

She bowed her head, ashamed, hurt, unable to look him in the eye any more. He'd think she was just a kid with a crush, and they'd never have the moments they once had. She stepped backwards, nearly tripping over a poorly-placed end table. His hand shot out to steady her, reaching for her waist, righting her to her feet…and again not moving from her skin. She stayed in his grasp, content to be there for just a moment longer, chancing a glance up into his eyes.

They were smoldering. Fiery passion was blazing between the two of them, and she moved without thought. Her lips pressed against his without a moment's hesitation, her hands curling into the fabric of his shirt as they kissed. It was only a moment before he would respond. She only had a second before he pushed her away…but no. His hands betrayed him, curling around her body to press her closer to him, the other hand going to cradle her cheek, caressing her as his lips did. His perfect lips, even with that scar, that scar, that rough little patch that pressed against her over and over. She parted her mouth as his tongue swept in, his kiss hot and intoxicating and everything she had ever dreamed it would be. When they parted, he rested his head atop hers, keeping his hand to her cheek, stroking her skin gently.

He broke the silence after a moment's pause. "We can't, Alice. As much as I want to…I'm an employee. If your father found out…"

"He won't."

"In time, he would. How could we make this last without him finding out? It wouldn't be real, would it?"

She sighed. There was truth in his words, painful as it was.

"Then…we'll go to him. We'll talk to him."

He chuckled and kissed her again, a brief, pressing kiss that burned her lips and made her heart race. "Talk to Carlisle Cullen? A fucking firing squad, my girl wants me to go in front of."

She burned even hotter then. "Your girl?"

She could feel the blush without seeing it, and it made her know she was right. She had been right the entire time. "I dunno," he murmured. "But not now, Alice. Not this way. Maybe later, if I'm not working for you, or if your father consents or something."

"We could make him!"

He laughed again. "You can't make your father do anything. No one can. The power he wields is the reason I'm here to protect you. Protect Rosalie too. And my job could be jeopardized if I'm distracted by…"

"By…what?"

"You know. This." He pulled her in tighter, her body pressed flush against his, and other flame ran through her, settling between her legs, and she clenched her eyes tight to remain in there here and now and not think about that just yet.

"I'll talk to my dad," she suggested. "Maybe if we get you switched to Edward's service or something, he'll allow it."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure he won't dig me sleeping in the same house as you," Jasper added with a grin.

Alice felt her cheeks tingle a bit, and she ran her fingertips over the tattoos on his arm, admiring the art permanently placed there as she spoke. "I mean, you've been staying in another bedroom, it's not a big deal. But if you were…you know, in _my _bedroom for instance…"

She heard him give out a shivery groan against her hair, and she smiled. Maybe they could work this out. If it was meant to be like she hoped it was, then they –

Both their phones went off at once, annoying pinging sounds interrupting their embrace. Alice untangled from Jasper's arms to reach for her cell on the table, reading the text that had just arrived.

_911. –Rose_

"911?" Jasper repeated aloud, looking at his own phone. They had gotten the same message. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong, and Alice felt an unnamed fear creep into her quickly as Jasper tore through the apartment, running down the hall that would lead to Rosalie's room. He was back in a second, breathing heavily and looking furious.

"Well?" Alice prompted.

He shook his head. "She went down the fire escape."

Alice was dialing before she could think, and Rosalie picked up quickly.

"Alice, you need to come get me. Back entrance of The Three-Sixty Lounge. Now." Her voice was urgent and only slightly scared – which scared Alice even more. Fear was not something that Rosalie knew.

"What happened?" she asked.

"A shooting. I snuck out with Emmett and –"

"Goddamn, Rosalie, are you so fucking stupid –"

"I know, _I know_, just shut up and come get me. The paparazzi are everywhere. If Dad sees this, he'll shit."

Jasper had already grabbed the keys and his coat and was leading her to the door. Alice stayed on the phone as they walked, praying she wouldn't lose her when they entered the elevator.

"It's a legal system, Rose," she went on, "Dad's going to find out anyway. Don't you have to, like, give a statement or something?"

"Emmett did," she replied. "The press are going to fucking eat this shit up. Kill me."

"Dad will do that enough for the both of us, believe me," Alice groaned. "I'll call you when we're there."

She shut her phone with a snap, shoving it back in her pocket and following Jasper out into the building garage. He led her over to their spot, sidling up to the Aston Martin her father had given Jasper to use for 'emergencies.' Sure as hell, now counted.

"This is just what I meant," Jasper muttered as he backed the car out of the space. "I get distracted and it falls to shit."

"So I'm a distraction?" she murmured, staring at the leather lining on the door.

"Alice, I didn't –"

"Whatever," she cut him off. Now was not the time for excuses, especially if they were going to be lame ones about the nonexistence of 'them.'

But he didn't give any more excuses, only said, "We can't do this, Alice. We just can't."

His words throbbed through her, her heart sounding like a drumbeat. Everything had been right in her grasp. And now…nothing.

She leaned her head against the window, watching the city fly by as they sped through the streets. Jasper was a magician behind the wheel, and she would normally have been awed by his skill. But for now, she was just mourning for what might have been, and praying that her sister would be alright.

When they pulled past the front entrance of the club, news cameras and reporters were littering the sidewalks, all lenses aimed at the doorway, watching as shaken-up clubgoers emerged, some stopping to speak with the microphones, others waving the reporters away and heading down the road. Jasper carefully maneuvered around the police cars blocking much of the road, easing down the slim sidestreet that led to the back entrance –

Which was choked with paparazzi.

Out of habit, Alice reached for her sunglasses on top of her head, wanting to avoid any recognition until the last possible moment – but there were no sunglasses to be found, and she could only look away from the window and hope they didn't see her.

That meant she had to look right at Jasper, and the sight was nearly causing her heart to break.

"Stay here," he commanded, keeping the car running as he unbuckled and opened the door. "I'll be right back."

He left the car, keeping to the perimeter of the throng of photographers so he wouldn't be seen, and spoke to the guard at the door before slipping inside.

When had she fallen so hard for him? It had been a crush, an idealization. She didn't know it had been so heavy. She didn't know she…loved him? That was crazy. She barely knew him out of the bodyguard context. She couldn't possibly love him. Not now. Later, but not now.

Ha. As if she'd have the opportunity to love him at all.

He was in for two minutes tops before he emerged again, his jacket hiding the figure that followed him from the flashbulbs of the cameras. Alice shielded her own face with her hand, feeling the blinding light of the paparazzi on her as they watched Rosalie get escorted to the car. Rose slipped into the backseat, keeping the jacket over her head as Jasper went around and got back into the driver's seat, pulling away slowly then speeding along as quick as he could, given that the road was choked with photographers desperate for a good shot.

The car was silent, the only sound in the air being the gears shifting and the tires on the slick pavement. It was almost a soothing sound…yet Alice found she couldn't be soothed. Jasper didn't want her. Rosalie's stupid actions had made than happen. And somehow she wasn't good enough for him to want to try, just _try_.

Out of the three people in the car, it was herself that she probably hated the most.

The silence they kept in the car continued to their apartment, Alice stopped only long enough to throw a withering look to her sister before going straight to her room. The night was hard. The next day was worse.

It was seven in the morning when the banging on the door started. Alice had enough time to wrap her kimono around her before the door opened and Jasper poked his head in. At any other time, her heart would have nearly leapt out of her chest at the sight of him, but now…her stomach just rolled sourly. Even his shirtless chest and bare tattooed arm didn't do it. Her heart did pump hard when she saw the Beretta he was holding tight to his half-clothed body.

"You okay?" he asked, and his voice was husky with rudely-awoken sleep. She struggled not to let it thrill her.

She nodded and pulled the silken robe tighter around her. "Yeah, fine…what's wrong?"

But he didn't say anything more, just slipped right out the door again, shutting it behind him. Alice was quick to open it, sliding out into the hallway and staying close to the wall like Jasper did. The banging continued, and he leveled his gun as he stepped into the living room and made his way to the door.

Rosalie had emerged from her room too, rubbing her raccoon eyes as she padded into the living room. "What is going on?"

"Go back in your room," Jasper commanded, keeping his gun up high.

"Seriously, is something wrong?" Alice asked from the hallway.

"Both of you just –"

Everything stopped short as a key jingled in the lock and the door flew open. Jasper aimed the gun well, his finger on the trigger….

"Don't shoot!"

Alice's twin brother Edward stood in the vestibule, his hands above his head, wearing pajama pants and a worn Harvard Business School t-shirt. Whatever it was that caused him to nearly throw down the door had been so urgent he hadn't had time to dress. Jasper lowered his gun slowly, laying it on the coffee table, keeping it within reach, and Edward lowered his hands.

"What the hell, Ed?" Rosalie cried, stepping forward and punching their brother in the arm.

Edward winced. "Shut up, Rosalie, it's your fault I'm over here this early." He bent down to his feet, picking up something he had dropped in the haste to prove his innocence…a newspaper. He held it out to the blonde girl, his face disapproving – a look he continually had when it came to Rosalie.

Rosalie took the paper without a word, straightening it with a snap and looking over the headlines. Her jaw dropped slightly. "Oh…fuck."

"Yeah, fuck is right," Edward muttered. "You better get on the phone with Dad and the lawyers before the press go even more crazy."

"What are they saying?" Alice asked, coming to read over Rosalie's shoulder. The headline was huge, _Cullen Partygirl Tangled in Late-night Shootout_, and right above a fairly decent picture of Rosalie leaving the club, covered by Jasper's jacket.

"Damn," Alice whispered. There had been slight scandals in their past before – photos of underage drinking, Rosalie having that affair with the Spanish prince – but never anything that would involve the lawyers.

"I didn't even do anything!" Rosalie cried angrily, throwing the paper to the ground.

"Try telling that to the Times."

Everyone turned at once, fearing the worst and knowing it had happened. Carlisle Cullen stood in the doorway, arms folded over his neatly-pressed suit and tie, his mouth folded downward in a disapproving look very much like his son's.

"Daddy," Rosalie whispered, trembling right down to her bare feet. Carlisle, as well as his own bodyguard, stepped into the room, each of them looking lethal in their own way.

"Rosalie Lillian," Carlisle said sternly. "I believe we have some things to talk about."

She nodded and started the trek to her bedroom. When their father needed to fuss, he never liked to do it in public. A private area was what Carlisle needed to blow up in, and it was best to get it over and done with now.

Carlisle held his hand out wordlessly, and his bodyguard placed a neatly-folded copy of the paper in his palm. He tucked it under his arm then turned towards the group left in the room, his eyes meeting Jasper's.

"I'll need to speak to you as well."

His words were simple, and his tone was fairly non-threatening, but the implication behind his words was undeniable. Alice immediately felt that sickening, stomach-curling again. He would be in trouble for this. Big trouble. Maybe even fired. And she couldn't decide if that was good or bad. If he wouldn't be with her, maybe him leaving was the best. At least then she wouldn't have to see him every day. Or maybe that was the awful part. Not being able to see him, letting him just walk out of her life after she had spent the last five months idolizing him. But he didn't care for her, so did it really matter? He didn't care for her enough to try.

But then she felt something against her arm. His hand, brushing her skin gently, surreptitiously, as he walked past her into Rosalie's room. He had reached out for her in his most dire moment. Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe, just maybe…he really did care.

Carlisle stared at both Edward and Alice for a moment, as if to silently say _I'll deal with you later_, then walked into the other room and shut the door with a snap. His guard stood in front of the door, an imposing presence, and stared straight ahead. Alice reached out for her brother's hand, tugging him back to her room where they might have some privacy, a very rare thing in any Cullen household. Her room was a sanctum from the craziness of the world she lived in, and she had decorated it to be so – her teal walls and black leather bed with the pink satin comforter were a far cry from the taupe-and-rose decoration scheme Esme Cullen had decorated the family home in.

"Well," Edward said as soon as the door was shut behind them, "that was…eventful."

"He's going to murder her," Alice wailed. "He's going to be furious at her and you _know_ somehow it's going to come back to me."

Edward sat on the purple velvet chaise longue near the window and raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that?"

"It always does," she replied. "'_Alice, why weren't you making sure Rosalie stayed on track_,' '_Alice, we let you move out together so you could keep an eye on each other_,' '_Alice, why did you let yourself fall in love with your bodyguard_.'"

"Well, you….wait, _what_?"

Alice felt a rush of blood go to her cheeks when she realized what she had said, and she had to steady herself by sitting on the edge of her bed. Edward moved onto the bed with her, plucking at a stray thread on her comforter.

"So, you, um…you and Jasper are in love?" he asked awkwardly.

Alice groaned and fell face-first into the pile of black pillows, her words mumbled as she spoke into them. "I don't know, I don't _know_. I like him a lot, okay? But it's never going to work out 'cause Dad's in there giving him shit and probably firing him and he's going to blame me and never want to talk to me again and –"

"Whoa. Alice." Edward held up his hands, defensive again but this time without a gun pointed at him. "Listen…I know I'm no mind-reader but…I've seen the way he looks at you. He's into you pretty heavily. Maybe if you just talk –"

"Talk? _Talk_?" She flew up from the pillows, well aware that she was crying slightly. "I _tried_ to talk, and he gave me the brush off, saying I'd jeopardize his job. And guess what I did?"

"You didn't do that, Rosalie did. It was her choice to sneak out and her fault she got into this mess."

"But you _know_ it's gonna come back to me. It will. It's like they expect me to see the future and just know what's going to happen so I can try to stop the bad stuff."

Edward rolled his eyes. "No one can do that, Al. Just…talk to Jasper. Us guys may not be as good at this whole emotion thing, but maybe he'll open up to you. Lord knows I would, for the right girl."

Alice hugged him then, kissing his cheek, thankful for such a good man in her life. If her father was lacking much caring and Jasper was still unsure about them, at least she had him. "Thanks, Ed. I can try. And, you will some day. Find her. I can feel it."

"I thought you couldn't tell the future," he said with a cocky grin that made her slug him in the arm. "Jesus, what is it with you girls and punching me today?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. You're just an asshole today, I guess."

"Well, this asshole is going to go home," he said as he stood up from the bed. "I need to leave before the drama starts."

"You aren't seriously going to leave me to deal with this, are you?" Being alone with the overly-dramatic Rosalie, she could handle. Being alone under their father's glare was another thing entirely.

"Unfortunately, yes," he answered. "I have a crap ton of work to do and no desire to hang around waiting for another lecture from Dad about responsibility."

He ruffled her black bob before walking out of the room, leaving her to collapse back on the bed, her mind swirling with all sorts of thoughts.

Rosalie was in trouble. Not so much with the law, but definitely with the press, and even more so with Carlisle.

Their father was no doubt going to hand it to Rose, and probably to Alice too. And in some way, Jasper was going to bear part of that.

Likely he would be fired. He'd have a poor recommendation, and he wouldn't find work anywhere near them. He would have to leave. She might never see him again.

Never. Again.

Fuck.

She was in his room before she realized she was moving. He didn't spend much time in there, preferring to sit on the couch in the living room, the space between her and Rosalie's bedrooms, but it was still his place. A place that reflected him. She had only been in there once, when she was totally PMS-ing about misplacing her phone and irrationally thought it might be in there though she herself had never entered the room. It had been dark and she had been pre-gaming the club opening she was going to and hadn't gotten a good look…but now that she was sober and not pissed (at least not at him), she could see why he didn't spend much time in there. It was so sparsely decorated, it was almost like a hotel room. The bed had a simple black comforter and pillow, the desk was cleaned off except for a closed laptop, also black. A tall bookshelf took up most of the wall, and it was filled to the brim, some books even turned on their sides to make more space. One look at it, and she immediately felt dumb. Would he want to be with a girl who hadn't even gone to college? Maybe she was too stupid for him. Yeah, this whole thing was just…stupid. With a sigh, she turned away from the shelf, ready to return to her room again.

Only, as she turned, she saw a framed picture on the wall, hung just at the height where it would be in his over-six-feet eyeline. She had to stand on tiptoe to make sure she was seeing it right. It was a photo of her and Rosalie, taken when they were in the park one fall afternoon. But…why? Why would he have a picture of them in his small, nondescript bedroom?

Even though it was confusing, she still remembered that day perfectly. Jasper had only been with them for a month or so and had wanted to see the city a little more. They had gone for a walk, Rosalie making fun of his touristy camera, and he had taken a few shots of them in retaliation. The Cullen girls were used to having their picture taken, and it was usually a hassle…but not this time. No, Alice remembered feeling like she wanted to look her best for Jasper's pictures. And so while Rosalie was on the left, staring off into the sunlight and looking goddess-like without trying, Alice was smiling right at the camera, her knitted green tam pulled over her black hair with just a few wisps tickling her face. She looked pretty. She looked…happy. It was him that had made her feel that way. And now he would be going. Alice reached out with one finger to stroke the frame, wishing that past Alice well and praying she could somehow regain that happiness.

"I kept it to remind me of what I'm here to protect."

Alice's head whipped around, the blunt ends of her dark hair hitting her cheeks. Jasper stood in the doorway, leaning on the jamb in a careless, entirely alluring way, his face serious.

"So every time I walk out that door, I remember what my job is," he went on. "Well…what my job was."

The words dropped like stones in a well, hitting her heavily. _Was_.

"He…"

"Fired me," Jasper ended her sentence. "I'm out."

Alice watched silently as he came into the room, reached under the little bed for a suitcase, and snapped it open. She stayed silent while he moved the contents of his dresser into the case and kept watching while he went into the closet, returning with all the rest of his clothes. It was way too small an amount, and he was done putting them haphazardly in within a few minutes.

"You're gonna need a box for your books," she murmured. Why on earth was she helping him? She loved him, and she was helping him _leave_. Weren't you supposed to fight for the one you loved?

But if he wasn't going to fight, why should she?

He moved over to the shelf, pulling books down a few at a time, stacking them on the desk in neat rows. With that being taken care of, there was only one more thing to pack in the room. She knotted her kimono tightly around her and removed the photo from the wall carefully, holding it in her hands for a moment, staring at that happy girl she almost didn't recognize within the frame.

"I love you."

Alice was suddenly too frozen to move. She couldn't think. Couldn't speak. Only heard those words going over and over in her head.

I love you. _I love you_. _**Love**_.

With trembling hands, she put the picture on the desk so she wouldn't drop it, still facing the wall, unable to turn and see him for fear this might all be a dream. But his voice was there, reaching her ears. She wasn't asleep. She was here, and now, and he loved her.

"That's why I had the picture. The real reason. So I could see _you_ every time I walk out that door. So I could know what I was working for. And what I was hoping to get someday."

"What…" She cleared her throat and started again. "What is that? What were you hoping to get?"

She could feel his body just behind her, even without turning around, and the breath from his lips tickled the back of her neck, making her shiver.

"Isn't it apparent?" he asked softly.

Ever so slowly, she turned, keeping her eyes on the ground until she could see his feet. He wasn't wearing any shoes (thank God, cause all he really had were those awful black boots), and even his bare feet were perfect. She glanced up, following the trail of his plaid pajama pants, along his tightly ribbed stomach, all the way up until her eyes met his.

They didn't speak. They didn't need to. Everything she felt was mirrored exactly in his gaze. It was enough to make her laugh, and she did, a little gurgling chuckle that came from deep within her.

"What is it?" Jasper asked, a smile now on his face too, that little pink puckered scar in the corner making it endearingly crooked.

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head and reaching out for his hand. It was big, broad, almost the opposite from her own, yet it felt so right lacing his fingers through hers. "It's just…things are so right…"

But it wasn't right. He was leaving. The laughter faded from her eyes and lips, and she pulled herself close to him. If this was all the time she had, then damn it, she was going to take it and make the most of it. It only took a second before her lips were pressed against his, greedy and hot, needing, wanting. He moaned into her mouth, threading his fingers into her hair, and she couldn't stop her own hands from going to his belt buckle. She needed him, now, had to have him before she gave him up.

Jasper pulled away suddenly, his hands grabbing her wrists to stop her.

"Alice, what is it?" he asked, looking down at her.

She tried so hard not to let her tears spill over, and they only choked her words a little. "You're going. If this is all I'm going to have of you then –"

"But you're not," he cut her off.

She looked up. His stare was truthful and loving, everything she had hoped it would be. "I'm not? What do you mean?"

He shrugged his shoulders a bit. "I, uh…I dunno. Your dad fired me, but I'm not going anywhere." He stroke her cheek and smiled. "Not that I've found something to keep me."

It was like heaven. Like heaven had opened up and there were angels singing and all that ridiculous crap people in romance novels talked about. She closed her eyes for a second, savoring that feeling of his skin against hers, then opened them, returning his gaze, his smile…his love.

"So…does that mean we can try this? Really try it? Us?" she asked. Just to make sure.

He laughed and kissed the top of her head. "Yeah, we can really try it."

She laughed too and hugged him tight, only one thought marring the happiness within her…but even that made her smile a bit. A wicked smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"My dad is gonna be so pissed."


End file.
